


still / (t)here

by Jayeffdee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:03:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9318458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayeffdee/pseuds/Jayeffdee
Summary: “You’re right here,” Lena whispered under her breath. Between sips of water, she glanced over to the clock on her toilet tank. Another sip. Glance back at the clock. Same time. "You’re all right."Amélie appeared in the doorway and placed a hand on Lena’s shoulder. “You’re still here,” Amélie said. “It’s eleven twelve in the evening on March twenty-third in the year two-thousand and sixty-nine. You’re right here. With me. I promise.”- - -Amélie Lacroix and Lena Oxton find comfort in one another as they both spend time at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Amélie waits in protective custody for Gérard to return from a mission that could compromise not only his own life but the entire organization of Overwatch; Lena recovers from an accident that sent her careening violently through time and space and adjusts to life with a chronal accelerator. They laugh, they cry, they flirt, while the world slowly burns around them.





	1. nights one - four

**Author's Note:**

> a note on timelines:  
> trying to establish a canon timeline for the Overwatch universe is like trying to untangle a set of earbuds you left in your coat pocket six months ago. essentially, this fic takes place:  
> \- one year before the Petras Act/incident at the Swiss HQ  
> \- seven months after the failed launch of the Slipstream  
> \- two months after Lena returns to this reality from her Slipstream accident  
> \- an indeterminate amount of time (no greater than one year) before Amelie is abducted by Talon  
> it only slightly matters but i figured some folks would want to know.
> 
> a note on ratings:  
> chapter 1 is rated T, chapter 2 will crank the rating up to M, possibly E in the future??? who knows :o
> 
> this has no beta reader (yet), so all typos, fuck-ups, and shitty writing is my own damn fault. if yr interested in the story & would like to beta, please let me know! this is part of a larger story i hope to write that fleshes out what i think transpired between the years when Overwatch began to fall and the year in which the game takes place. i'd love some fellow slash shippers/writers to help me figure out wtf is going on.
> 
> *horizontal lines denote a new day/night bc i am L A Z Y*

When Lena couldn’t sleep, she sat on the roof. Technically, it was against protocol for agents to access the roof outside of operating hours, but if anyone knew that she spent at least a few nights a week up there, they didn’t say anything.

Lena didn’t sleep well. Not anymore, anyway. She used to - when she was a baby, her mother bragged to all of the other parents with newborns and infants about how easy it was to put baby Lena to bed. “Just goes out like a light soon as she hits the crib,” she’d say, and the other mothers would gasp in envious awe. But 20 years and one time-and-space bending accident later, Lena found sleep harder and harder to achieve. Once she finally fell asleep, the likelihood of that sleep being restful and lasting more than a couple hours was nearly non-existent.

So, more often than not, Lena found herself on the roof of the dormitory at Watchpoint: Gibraltar in the middle of the night, staring up at the stars and remembering what it felt like to fly. She especially loved nights with a breeze. Feeling the wind flutter through her hair, she’d stretch out her arms and let it pass over her, leaning into and away from it, allowing it to push and pull her. The chronal accelerator would sit on the ground beside her and she’d tremble slightly at the weightlessness she felt without it strapped to her chest.

Despite having only had the accelerator for a month, Lena could hardly remember what life had been like without it. She remembered, all too vividly, what life had been like when she’d floated through time and space without it - without anything to tether her to the reality from which she’d been torn. The first week after Winston gave it to her, she wore it every hour of every day. She slept in it, worked in it, and it wasn’t until she’d gone eight days without a shower that Captain Amari was able to sit her down and convince her to take it off and bathe. In the communal showers of the base’s gym, both Captain Amari and Winston sat outside the curtain, Winston holding the accelerator gently in his lap while Lena washed. Occasionally, she’d stick her hand out, and Winston would take it and guide it to the accelerator, so that she could feel it, know that it was definitely, for sure, still there. And so, it turned out, was she.

Communal showers and inescapable waves of panic left Lena with few moments to be alone and enjoy it. The nights she spent on the roof, despite being a result of insomnia and recurring nightmares, were some of the only times she could find solace in solitude. As such, Lena nearly fell off of the roof in surprise when she heard the roof access door creak open behind her one night. Scrambling to stand, she grabbed the accelerator and prepared to blink - until she saw Amélie Lacroix’s face, illuminated softly from the moonlight. “ _Désolée_ , Lena,” Amélie said, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Lena let out the breath she held with a laugh. “Bloody Christ, you almost sent me off the edge.” She smiled, but Amélie did not return it. “What are you doing up here, Amélie?” Amélie folded her arms over her chest as she walked toward Lena, and said nothing. They both settled, silently, on the edge of the roof, a foot or so of space between them. Lena sat the accelerator back down and tucked it under her leg. “Can’t sleep?” she asked again. Amélie stared down at the ground below them. The silence stretched onward. Lena turned away from Amélie and stared back up at the stars.

Amélie had arrived at the base four days prior. Gérard, Reyes, and the rest of the Blackwatch team had been deployed to an unknown location somewhere in the Netherlands less than an hour after she’d landed. They’d spent that time together in Gérard’s bunk, and after he left, she’d returned there for the rest of the evening. Lena had only gotten a glimpse of her as she was introduced to the team before Gérard whisked her away to his room. Amélie had not been present when the rest of the team saluted the cloaked dropship as it left Gibraltar.

Gérard had spoken of Amélie from time to time, with generic spousal compliments, like how she was an amazing cook, and had an incredible ass, and put up with his “idiotic antics” and still loved him anyway. It occurred to Lena, in that moment, that she knew nothing about Amélie except that Gérard was absolutely crazy for her.

“I used to know the names of every constellation in the sky,” Lena said, breaking the silence. “Even the ones I couldn’t see. I knew where they all were, too. I could tell you exactly where and when in the world you should be if you wanted to see Ursa Minor or Cassiopeia or Perseus.” Looking up into the sky above Gibraltar, she surveyed the stars. She squinted, pursed her lips. “Rubbish at it now, though.”

Amélie’s eyes stayed fixed on the ground, nearly one hundred feet below their dangling legs. She was so still, Lena almost forgot that she was there as she got lost in the expanse of space above their heads. “It’s crazy, how far away they are, but how close to us they look,” Lena continued. “Like you could get up there and touch them if you just hopped in a plane or something.” She chuckled. “Space is weird like that, isn’t it? Should have a disclaimer: ‘Objects in sky are further away than they appear.’” Movement beside her made Lena turn her head. When she glanced at Amélie, the movement stopped. It had been something quick - the jerk of her head or the twitch of a hand or... a hitch of her shoulders. It was gone as soon as it arrived.

“What’s wrong, love?” Lena asked. Amélie remained still. Lena took a chance and slid along the edge, closer to Amélie. She tried a soft smile. “I know it’s hard, sitting here and waiting for him to come back.” Amélie’s head jerked up and turned to Lena. Her eyes were wide and bright, blazing with fire and shimmering with tears. Her mouth twitched, but didn’t open. Then she stood and walked silently back into the compound. Lena waited a few minutes after hearing the door shut before getting up and heading inside herself.

Lena slept horribly that night. She passed into and out of a series of short naps plagued by nightmares of falling helplessly from the sky, staring down the barrel of a Talon rifle, and, worst of them all, paralyzed within the endless expanse of a black void.

It was always after that last particular nightmare that Lena decided sleep was over for the night. On bad nights, it was the first dream she had, and she would spend the rest of her time idly searching the internet or playing games on the little handheld console she brought with her. On good nights, it was the fourth or fifth dream, which meant that she could get in at least a few hours before sitting up until her alarms went off. On great nights, that dream never came at all.

She hadn’t had a great night yet, but she knew she would one day.

* * *

 

When Lena stepped onto the roof the next night, Amélie was already there, sitting on the edge where they’d been the night before. She’d wrapped a dark shawl around her shoulders and with her dark hair spilling over her head and down her back, the moon turned her into a dark silhouette against its bright backdrop. Lena approached carefully, as though she was coming up behind a feral animal, and took a seat beside her.

“Didn’t think I’d see you up here again,” Lena said. “Thought for sure I’d offended you last night.” Amélie might have laughed - or scoffed.

“It will take more than that to offend me,” Amélie replied. “But yes, I was... annoyed.” Lena smiled. It wasn’t the first time in her life someone had called her an annoyance, and Lena was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Sorry,” Lena said, managing to convey a modicum of humility. “Didn’t mean to stick my nose where it ain’t welcome.” Amélie hummed - in agreement? Disagreement? Ambivalence? Lena had no idea. So she continued, “You came back, though, so you can’t be too mad.”

“Maybe I was hoping you **wouldn’t** come back?” Amélie said. Lena turned and saw the corners of Amélie’s lip curve upward. She responded with a mocked gasp.

“Savage!” she cried, her voice a harsh whisper. She was certain that nobody could hear them, but she felt the need to be cautious nonetheless. “Bad luck for you, though,” she said, “I’m out here almost every night.”

“I noticed.”

“You noticed?” Amélie finally turned toward Lena and gave her the full frontal view of her wicked smirk.

“You are not as sneaky as you think you are, _Tracer_.” Hearing her callsign in Amélie’s voice, low and quiet and laced with playful malice, sent a shiver up Lena’s spine. She felt, undeniably, a hot spark of arousal - but also an underlying chill of something akin to fear. As if she knew, in that moment, that Amélie could have her flat on her back, staring straight into the face of her own death, and Lena would have begged her for more.

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be sneaky,” Lena retorted, lifting her chin. “Maybe this was exactly what I was trying to do.” Amélie’s eyebrow piqued. “Lure you out of hiding and up here, with me.” Lena’s voice trembled, just slightly.

“And why would you do that?” Amélie asked, voice smooth as silk. Again, the image of Amélie leaning over her prone body flashed in Lena’s mind. In its midst, Lena found within herself the audacity to wink.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out.”

They sat for a short while in silence - comfortable, solid silence, interrupted only by the swish of the breeze. After almost a half hour, Amélie stood and walked back toward the door.

“Same time, same place, love?” Lena called as Amélie continued to walk. There was no reply before she heard the sound of the door clicking shut.

* * *

 

“Why don’t you know the stars anymore?” Amélie asked. The question broke the fifteen minutes of silence they had been sitting in, sharing the edge of the roof and the breeze and the night sky for the third night in a row. It startled Lena almost as strongly as the first time Amélie had walked onto the roof.

“Come again, love?”

“The stars. You said you used to know all of their names, but now you don’t.” Lena looked up at the stars in question.

“I can remember some of them,” she said. “But it was just one of those things I did as a kid, you know?” She concentrated on the string of stars above them. Connect one, this one here to that one over there, and maybe...

“You lost interest?” Amélie asked. Lena shook her head.

“Not really,” she said. “I just got caught up with other things.” She glanced down at her accelerator. “And my memory’s not quite what it used to be.” Amélie made a noise, a low hum in her throat. She didn’t follow up with another question. Lena took the silence as an invitation.

“The accident did some funny things to my head,” she continued. “Took out spots of memory, and gave me some that I didn’t have before. I guess all that bouncing around timelines got a couple wires crossed.” She chuckled, but her throat was tight. “There’s whole years of my life I don’t remember anymore. And sometimes it’s hard for my brain to make new ones, so I can walk into a room, have a conversation, walk away, then walk back in and have the same conversation again, like it never happened the first time.” She smiled down at the ground. “For all I know, I’ve had this conversation with you a hundred times before.”

“No,” Amélie responded. “You have not.” Then, Lena felt Amélie’s hand on her arm. When she turned, Amélie had leaned closer to her, her face inches away from Lena’s, and their eyes locked. “I promise,” Amélie said, keeping her eyes on Lena’s, “this has never happened before.”

Like a dam had been broken, hot, wet tears spilled onto Lena’s cheeks. She took a breath and it caught in her throat, tightening as she clenched her jaw to hold back a sob. Amélie pulled Lena to her, and Lena felt Amélie’s arms firm around her as she let loose a hiccuping cry, burying her face into Amélie’s shoulder. She wept into Amélie until her eyes were bone dry and her lungs began to ache. When she could breathe again, Lena sat up and wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “Sorry, love,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.” Amélie said nothing, but took off her shawl and folded it neatly in her lap. The sleeve of her nightshirt, where Lena’s face had been on the shawl, was visibly damp.

“No need to apologise,” Amélie replied. Then, she leaned over and pressed her lips briefly to Lena’s cheek. “ _Bonne nuit, chérie_ ,” she whispered, before standing and heading back to the door. It clicked shut before Lena could catch her bearings and say anything back.

When Lena went to bed that night, she slept for four hours without any dreams. When she woke up, at five o’clock and an hour before her alarm, she stayed awake, afraid that going back to sleep would bring the dreams back. It was the best night of sleep she’d had in months.

* * *

 

With Gérard gone, the team was taking turns on overnight security detail. It was the simplest job any of them could have, as Athena did a majority of the work. “Zero imminent threats detected,” Athena would announce every eight minutes. Lena’s role was to acknowledge Athena’s report and stay alert for any change in activity.

She was four hours into the nine hour shift when Athena announced, “Zero imminent threats detected, Tracer. But there is someone outside the office door for you.” Lena, who had been sitting with her feet on the security console, quickly scrambled to sit in an upright and respectable position.

“Ah, let them in, Athena,” she said, pushing a hand through her hair to put it back into place. She anticipated the heavy footsteps of Commander Morrison, or the quick short steps of Captain Amari. Instead, she didn’t hear any footsteps at all before a voice was over her shoulder.

“ _Bonsoir._ ” Lena whirled around in the chair and burst into a laugh.

“Amélie!” she cried. “What the bloody hell are you doing in here? I didn’t think they’d let you come in while I was on duty.” She thought for a moment, then continued,

“Actually, I didn’t think you were allowed to come in here at all.” Amélie quirked her brow and shrugged, taking a seat beside Lena in the console’s second chair.

“Technically, no,” Athena said from the speakers mounted in the ceiling, “Mrs. Lacroix does not have clearance to enter the security office.” Both Lena’s and Amélie’s eyebrows rose as they glanced at one another. “However, I’ve noticed a correlation between the amount of time you spend with Mrs. Lacroix and your vital signs, Tracer.” Lena felt her cheeks begin to burn red hot. “An increase in the former has yielded a decrease in blood pressure and fatigue, and a significant increase in not only dopamine and endorphins but also phero--”

“Well, Athena, that’s just great!” Lena shouted, leaning forward to glare into the camera she knew was embedded in the security console, which Athena used for facial recognition and visual processing. “Thank you very much!” Glancing at Amélie, Lena noticed that tight-lipped smirk. “What’s brought you over here, love?”

“You, of course,” Amélie replied. Even if she’d closed her eyes, Lena could have heard the smirk in her voice. “I knew we would not have our usual rendez-vous on the roof tonight, and when I asked Athena, she was very keen to help me find you.” It was Amélie’s turn to look into the camera and she sent Athena a wink that Lena swore she was watching in slow motion. It sent her heart into overdrive and she prayed that Athena wouldn’t say anything about it outloud.

“Be careful, Athena,” Lena said, “If Winston finds out, he’ll have half a mind to deprogram you.”

“If I show him my aforementioned statistical analysis, I think he will reconsider.” Sometimes, Lena was unsure if snarky comments had been written directly into Athena’s coding or if she'd picked it up from surveying human communication over the years.

“Sodding computers,” Lena mumbled. She looked back at Amélie and smiled. “I’m real glad to see you, love,” she said, “but I think Morrison would deactivate my accelerator if he knew I was distracted during my security detail.” The smirk still hadn’t left Amélie’s face and, for a moment, seemed to deepen.

“Well, I would hate to be a distraction,” Amélie said. With Lena’s eyes on her, she rose from her seat and walked to Lena, placing both hands on the chair’s armrests and leaning forward. “I just wanted to stop by and say ‘good night.’” Brushing Lena’s cheek with her own, Amélie kissed Lena’s temple. Lena’s nose pressed into the base of Amélie’s throat and with every breath she smelled Amélie’s perfume, subtle and sweet. Lena’s entire body felt like fire. “ _Bonne nuit,_ Lena,” Amélie whispered into Lena’s ear. “ _Ne t'amusez pas trop sans moi_.” After she pulled away, Amélie glanced up at the ceiling speakers. “Thank you for your help, Athena.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Lacroix,” Athena responded.

“Please, call me Amélie.”

“Then, you’re welcome, Amélie,” Athena repeated. “Zero imminent threats detected, Tracer.” Lena said nothing, staring with her jaw hanging open as Amélie positively sauntered to the door and left the room. “May I add that your dopamine levels are--”

“No,” Lena said, “no, you may not. Just... let me have this, Athena.”

“Of course, Lena.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading the first half of this fic! i'm a huge fan of widowtracer, and i'm not usually interested in fics where they know each other pre-Talon because i feel like amelie is always treated with kid gloves - she's usually saccharine sweet and/or naively shy and while that's fine, i like the dynamic they have as tracer and widowmaker. so, i tried to imagine an amelie who is a little more cold than shy, and a little more flirty than sweet.
> 
> i was also inspired by the in-game voice lines that ana & WM have, where ana says, "gerard was a fool to love someone like you" and WM says "you know nothing about him." it made me think: if they know what happened to create WM, why does ana harbor ill will toward amelie? hmm...
> 
> i am still learning french, so if any of the dialogue is incorrect, please let me know! thank you for reading! the second part will be up in a few days...


	2. the fifth night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **\-- this chapter is (sort of) NSFW!!! --**  
>  **\-- NSFW warning for masturbation & steamy fantasies --**  
>  **\-- TW for descriptions of PTSD flashbacks --**  
>  \-- no smut (yet) --
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos & comments - i really appreciate y'alls feedback!  
> huge thank you to Eythia for helping w/ my french dialogue 
> 
> i'm dropping this chapter here now, a little sooner than i'd expected, because i think updates might be pretty spaced out for a little while. hope this beefy chapter holds you over 'til then!

It was more than insomnia that kept Lena up and restless the next night.

Staying up until dawn on security duty, then spending the majority of the day attempting to catch up on the rest she hadn’t gotten the night before certainly hadn’t helped. But there were... _thoughts_ stirring in Lena’s mind that kept her from achieving any semblance of relaxation.

_“You, of course.”_

_“I just wanted to stop by to say ‘good night.’”_

_“Bonne nuit, chérie.”_

The things Amélie had said the night before. The look on Amélie’s face. The things Amélie did last night. Lena had spent the entire night in the security office, and the entire next day, replaying it over and over again in her mind. As she laid on her bed, the rest of the agents retired for the evening after curfew and the commanding officers at their final briefing, it flooded back again in a tsunami of lust and shame.

She had managed, unsurprisingly, to go that whole day without actually seeing Amélie. As a civilian, security protocol prohibited Amélie from accessing most of the areas of the base. It occurred to her, having very little idea about who Amélie was as a person, Lena had even less of an idea what Amélie did to pass the time during the day. She wondered if Amélie got bored - if she felt like a caged animal, only allowed to roam freely when her captors permissed.

Or, perhaps, Amélie was fine with it, taking time to engage in whatever elegant lady-like hobbies Lena imagined she had. She envisioned Amélie sitting in a chair in her room, Edith Piaf crooning from an antique record player in the corner while Amélie daintily worked on an embroidery hoop in her lap. Or maybe she worked out? She definitely worked out, Lena decided, and Amélie’s fit body sidled through Lena’s imagination. With legs like those, Lena thought, it would be unfair if she didn’t go to the gym. The Watchpoint had a gym, and Lena was fairly certain that, at the very least, the treadmills and free weights weren’t restricted to authorized personnel only. Lena wondered idly what she might have to say to convince Athena to give her access to the gym at the same time as Amélie...

Lena stared intently at the clock. Her body and mind felt... itchy. Everything tingled uncomfortably as she watched the seconds tick by, and this time, she wasn’t counting to make sure that she was still where she should be. She actually wanted the clock to speed up - wanted to see the minutes skip forward until they reached the time when everyone would be asleep, so she could blink to the stairs and up to the roof to see Amélie.

Sitting on the roof used to be what she did when she couldn’t sleep and didn’t know what else to do. After Amélie, it became the moment in her day that she spent every other minute looking forward to. It made her wish that her accelerator let her travel further through time, so that she could blink right to the moment when she’d walk through the door and see Amélie, sitting on the edge of the roof, waiting for her.

She closed her eyes and tried to quiet the buzz in her brain. But her mind continued to wander, darting frantically back and forth like she did when she blinked forward and backward in training.

_“Well, I would hate to be a distraction.”_

As she let thoughts of Amélie consume her over and over again, sleep seemed to slip further and further away. The prickling impatience that had sent her into bed was replaced with a broiling heat that bristled through her whole body and settled low in her belly.

_“Ne t’amusez pas trop sans moi.”_

Lena groaned. She quickly realized, if she wanted to get any sleep that night, she knew she had two options: find a way to distract herself with thoughts of unappealing things (Winston licking peanut butter off his toes, or that time she walked in on Torbjörn in the gym shower...) or acquiesce to her body’s demands and have a wank (Amélie’s eyes, Amélie’s lips, Amélie’s perfume...).

Amélie, who she was, in fact, planning to see that night. Would it be weird for her to lie there and think of Amélie as she touched herself before falling asleep, just to wake up a little while later and see her in person?

For a moment, Lena wondered what would happen if she just decided, right then and there, to leave her room and walk over to Amélie’s? Amélie would most likely still be awake.

What if Lena walked up to Amélie’s room and, say, knocked on the door? Would Amélie answer? Of course she would - she had no reason not to. What would she be wearing? Something to cover her up, most likely, with a stranger knocking on her bedroom door in the middle of the night. Lena let her mind drift further and imagined Amélie in a dark satin robe that draped lazily over each of her curves and hung just about to the middle of her thighs.

From inside her room, Amélie would open the door just a little and peek out, unsure of who was on the other side. When she noticed it was Lena...

_“Oh, Lena,” she would say, and open the door a little wider. A smile would spread across her face and she would visibly relax, perhaps leaning casually on the doorframe. “I was not expecting a visit from you.”_

_“Sorry for dropping in like this,” Lena would say, “but I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wait ‘til later to see you.” Amélie would step back and gesture for Lena to enter her room, an invitation which Lena would accept. The room wouldn’t have the blinding fluorescent lights of all the other bunks - Amélie’s room would be lit with soft bulbs with a pleasant orange tint. It would look like candlelight, and as the door shut behind her, Lena would step into a room warm with more than just the soothing hue of the lights._

_“You are always welcome here,” Amélie would say in her delicious accent, practically purring as her eyes scanned up and down Lena’s body. “Is there anything in particular you wanted?” Lena would subtly wet her lips with her tongue and return Amélie’s appraising gaze. Amélie would begin moving toward Lena, hands playing with the tie of her robe. The lapels would begin to part, revealing that Amélie wore very little, if anything, underneath it._

_“See anything that interests you?” Amélie would taunt, agonizingly close to undoing the tie that held her robe closed. Then, she would reach out, take Lena’s hands, and place them on the knotted sash. “Feel free to take whatever you like.” Lena would wrap her hands around the knot, wiggle her fingers through it, and watch it fall to the ground. Her hands would slide up Amélie’s abs and push the robe from her shoulders, baring her--_

A sharp knock echoed from outside Lena’s door and she froze, one hand between her legs and the other halfway up her own shirt. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me...” Had she made noise? Was - oh, God - was the room bugged? Did Athena hear her, think she was in trouble, and send someone down here? The thought of Winston barreling through the doorway while she panted and squirmed under her own fingers was beyond humiliating and danced on the borderline of downright traumatic.

She gave it another second, hoping the other person might just let it go. But they knocked again. Lena swung her legs out of bed, took a second to compose herself, then walked to the door and opened it. Whatever state of disarray she was in, she would simply blame on having been roused from sleep.

Lena nearly fainted dead away when she saw that it was Amélie. She actually yelped, out of complete and utter reflex, when their eyes met. Amélie narrowed her eyes and frowned.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked. Lena found herself without the proper words to say. She could say, ‘No, of course not,’ but then there would be no explanation for the way she looked. But if she said, ‘Yeah, you did,’ Amélie might feel bad and leave. And Lena did not think she could handle being this close to Amélie at this moment, only to have her walk away.

“Kind of,” Lena said. “I mean, I was trying to sleep. Wasn’t doing a very good job of it, though.”

“Shall I leave you to that, then?” Amélie asked. Lena nearly had a panic attack.

“No, no,” Lena replied, perhaps a little too quickly. “Like I said, it wasn’t going too well. I was about to get up and stop trying in a few anyway.”

“Were you going to the roof?”

Lena shrugged. “I’d planned on it,” she said. “Were you... planning to go up tonight?” Amélie looked away from Lena’s face and pursed her lips.

“I think tonight I would rather stay inside,” Amélie said. Lena felt her heart plummet into her gut.

“Sure,” Lena mumbled, “that’s alright.” Lena looked away, too. They both stood, right in front of each other but looking at anything but one another. Amélie crossed her arms over her chest and sighed; Lena shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants and fiddled with a small bundle of lint.

“Is there somewhere else we could go?” Amélie asked. Lena’s head jerked up. _We._ Amélie had referred to both of them, not just herself. She wanted to stay inside tonight. And she was asking Lena to stay inside with her.

“Inside?” Lena said. “I don’t think anything’s gonna be unlocked at this hour.” _We could stay in my room,_ Lena thought, _You know, the room where I was just about to touch myself while thinking of you._ Lena felt a blush creeping over her face and sweat beginning to gather on the back of her neck. She cleared her throat into her fist.

“Well, we could, um,” she began, then cleared her throat again. “We could stay in here, if you like?” Amélie stayed silent for a moment, then looked up and finally met Lena’s eyes. A pang of desire roared so strongly through Lena’s body, she thought she might pass out. Or vomit. Or both.

“As long as you don’t mind,” Amélie said. Lena almost laughed out loud, right in her face. _No, I don't mind the first half of one of my wildest fantasies coming true, not at all._

“Friends are always welcome here,” Lena said, then stepped aside and gestured grandly for Amélie to enter.

The room was... not particularly large. There was space for the bed, a small desk, and a set of drawers, with just enough floor space to walk comfortably across. Each room in the barracks had a closet and its own bathroom, but the water pressure in the building was notoriously low, so most waited to do their showering after training, in the communal showers at the gym (hence “the Torbjörn incident”).

The room’s layout left much to be desired in terms of seating. Amélie took a seat on the edge of Lena’s bed and Lena’s mind would not let her ignore what had almost transpired on that very bed just minutes before. After walking awkwardly from one side of the room to the other, contemplating bringing her desk chair to sit across from Amélie, Lena hesitantly sat on the bed beside her.

For a minute or two, they sat in silence, staring down at their own hands. Lena felt the stillness in the air prickling against her skin. Even though she knew it was impossible, she worried herself with the thought that somehow, Amélie knew exactly what she’d almost walked in on. When the silence broke, it was with a question.

“How did it happen?” Amélie asked. Lena was about to ask what she meant when she noticed what Amélie was looking at: the chronal accelerator, sitting next to her bed on its charging dock.

“I thought Gérard would have told you,” Lena said. Then she muttered, “And it was all over the bloody news.” Amélie shook her head.

“Gérard couldn’t tell me much,” Amélie replied. “And the media did not tell it from your perspective.” Lena glanced over at her. Amélie was already looking at Lena, her eyes narrowed, her mouth curved gently downward. “All the stories were about what this meant for Overwatch, for the world. Nobody knew what it meant for you.”

Lena felt a pang in her gut, something other than lust. Something hollow and aching. The silence that hung between them suddenly felt unbearably loud. Lena stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on a smudge of dirt on the wall across from her.

Then, Lena told her. She told Amélie everything, starting from the young pilots summer camp program she went to in middle school, to the after school training program and summer intensive she attended through high school. She told Amélie about the fights she got into with her mother about her desire to join Overwatch, her passion to be a pilot, her dream of being a hero just like her role models. How her mother had begged her to reconsider, had tried to discourage her with horror stories of war, had gone so far as to tell Lena that she didn’t even think she had the skills to make it as a pilot. About how Lena had believed her when she said that, and had resented her for so long for saying it. How they bargained that, if Lena finished high school and got her diploma, she could enlist. How Lena had never studied so hard in her whole life, because that was all she had ever wanted.

Lena told Amélie about sending in her application and getting a response from Jack Morrison himself. He had seen the results of her simulation flights in the intensive program and had chosen her, along with only fifty other graduates from around the world, to conduct a simulation for admission into Overwatch. She’d learned that she was in the top ten rankings in the entire world - and, after they’d all been tested, she had scored number one out of all fifty in the Slipstream simulation. How, after she’d been chosen for the launch flight, she’d trained, day in and day out, with Morrison and Gérard and Winston, doing simulation after simulation every day for six months.

She told Amélie about how her mother had somehow managed to call Commander Morrison’s direct line and demand that he provide documentation proving that the technology was safe. Demanding to know what safety protocols were in place. Cried on the phone with him, asking if he understood what it felt like to sign a life insurance policy for your eighteen year old daughter. How he’d assured her that the technology had been tested, and that Lena was perfectly safe.

“Everything around that day is kind of a blur,” Lena explained. “Like I said, memory’s a weird thing for me now. I remember getting in the jet, I think. And I think I saw Mum there, but I could be making that up.” She felt her palms grow clammy and glanced at the accelerator, resisting the urge to walk over and strap it on. “Then... I was gone.” She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “That was August.” Everything started to get fuzzy, as if her eyes were vibrating in their sockets. She blinked a few times to clear her vision. “I didn’t make it back until December.”

“What was it like?” Amélie asked. “While you were gone, where were you?” Lena sat for a moment and thought back to it.

_Dark. Black. Nothing. Not cold, not hot, not anything. Just... absolute nothing._

She felt her lungs lock up. Air caught in her chest as she tried to breathe and she stood, dashing to the bathroom. She was thankful, then, for the harsh lighting in the room, as it started to push back against the darkness that was seeping in and spreading slowly over everything in front of her. Lena looked into the mirror and stared at her reflection, trying to focus on the features of her own face and steady her breathing as she filled a cup with water from the faucet.

“You’re right here,” she whispered to herself. Between sips of water, she glanced over to the clock on her toilet tank. _23:12:34._ Another sip. Glance back at the clock. _23:12:37_. “You’re all right.”

The bathroom swam in a broiling sea of black. Moments slid by in complete darkness and Lena clenched her jaw, repeating in her head, This isn’t real, this isn’t happening, you’re still here. She turned her head again to look at the clock, but she could barely see it in the darkness that ribboned over her eyes. “No, no, _no_...”

Then there was weight on her shoulder - something, a hand, yes, a hand gripped her and tugged her away from the sink. When she could turn toward it, she saw Amélie. “You’re still here,” Amélie said, and her voice was clear through the haze. “It’s eleven-thirteen in the evening on March twenty-third in the year two-thousand and sixty-nine and you are still here. With me.”

Amélie dropped her hand and grabbed Lena’s in it, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tight. Lena gripped the sink with her other hand, sliding the pads of her fingers over both surfaces - the cool, smooth porcelain and Amélie’s warm, soft skin - to feel them, to notice their texture, to convince herself that she was touching them. That she was still in the room with them.

The darkness started to fade more rapidly, like smoke being cleared by a slow and steady breeze. She could feel every part of her body, the heaviness in her head, and Amélie’s palm pressed into her own. Lena felt her lungs expand and she took a deep breath. She was safe. She was still there - still here, in her bathroom, with Amélie. Lena took a long sip of water, then turned toward Amélie, still beside her and holding her hand.

“Thank you,” Lena said. Amélie’s eyes locked onto Lena’s and her stare was piercing, as if she was trying to memorize every speck of color in Lena’s eyes. Lena was grateful for it. It reminded her, just as strongly as Amélie’s hand in her own, that she was really here. That Amélie could truly see her.

When she was able, Lena lead them back into the bedroom, their hands still entwined together as they sat on the bed. When they shuffled themelves back from the edge to rest against the wall, their hands finally parted as they wriggled and fidgeted to make room for one another. Once they’d finally settled, Lena rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. “I’m sorry that keeps happening,” Lena said.

“You say that too much,” Amélie replied. Lena turned to her and frowned.

“I say what too much?”

“You apologize too much,” Amélie said. “A terrible thing happened to you. Allow yourself some time to recover.” Lena snorted, an unsuccessfully stifled chuckle. “What?” Amélie looked at her with a puzzled expression - her eyes narrowed so hard, they looked like they might cross. Lena couldn’t stop the next laugh that barreled out of her and God, it felt good to smile.

“The pun,” Lena explained around another giggle. “You said, ‘Allow yourself some _time_ to recover.’” And maybe it was the emotional whiplash from near orgasm to near flashback within thirty minutes, but Lena found herself laughing uncontrollably - loud, hard, and without end. “I can’t believe you didn’t even notice what you said!” Amélie made a show of rolling her eyes and swatted Lena on the arm.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Amélie moaned. But Lena couldn’t stop giggling, and it was infectious. They laughed together until Lena’s gut ached, her eyes teared, and she thought she might choke trying to catch her breath from it.

This, Lena thought, felt even better than the orgasm she might have had earlier. Had it been so long since she’d had a good, whole, hearty laugh? Certainly, she’d had fun with the rest of the team, but since she came back... had she smiled so hard her cheeks hurt? Had she laughed so hard she thought she might actually never breathe again? Had anyone been able to take her from that deep, dark, horrible place in her mind and straight into unbridled joy rippling throughout her whole body within minutes like this?

Honestly, had anyone even tried?

As she fought the force of her laughter for air, Lena turned toward Amélie and knocked their shoulders together. Twisting herself sideways, Lena found her nose buried into Amélie’s soft hair. It smelled like her perfume and something else a little sweeter - probably whatever shampoo Amélie used. To Lena, it smelled ethereal, something unlike anything on Earth. It sobered her from her laughter and she managed to sigh, taking in another breath of Amélie.

Amélie stopped laughing, too, and let her head rest against Lena’s. They both sat, pressed against each other, Lena’s lips tantalizingly close to Amélie’s ear. It took every last ounce of willpower that Lena had not to close that distance.

Amélie was not the hot girl at summer camp, or a cute high school friend at a sleepover. She was - well, she was many things. She was, first and foremost, married. Married to one of Lena’s superior officers, and a man who Lena considered, in certain ways, to be a friend. And Amélie was a woman. She had probably been places, traveled the world, gone to college, had a career. Lena had finished high school by the skin of her teeth and dove headfirst into a crazy dream to be an international military hero... and she hadn’t even been able to do that right. Amélie probably looked at her and saw a sad puppy, a lost dog searching desperately for something to make it feel big and strong. Lena looked at Amélie and saw a sky full of stars.

Lena pulled away and put her hands over her face to hide what she knew had to be an embarrassing blush. “Well, I think that’s enough about me for one night,” she said. She shifted, turning her whole body toward Amélie and offering a smile. “Now, you wanna tell me what’s been on your mind, love?”

Amélie leaned her head back against the wall. Her smile, lingering from the laughter, faded slightly. Just when Lena thought she wasn’t going to answer, she sighed. “What is there to tell?” she said. “My husband was sent on a top secret mission right into the heart of the terrorist organization that he’s dedicated his life to destroying. They know who he is, what he looks like, what he’s doing, and instead of staying in another country at a military base with impenetrable security, he’s living down the street from their base of operations in a studio apartment.” She spoke so casually, like she was describing the plot of a movie she’d seen but hadn’t particularly enjoyed. She focused on the ceiling as she spoke and when her eyes swept down and caught Lena’s, she shrugged.

“You’re worried about him,” Lena said. Amélie’s eyes flashed, the same way they had that first night, when Lena had tried to talk to her about Gérard leaving.

“Of course I am,” Amélie said, and Lena flinched. Amélie’s voice had snapped like a bear trap and Lena felt caught right in its jaws. Amélie seemed to realize how she’d sounded and she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“I mean no offense to you, Lena,” she continued, “but if I may be frank, it was a stupid decision. He will get himself killed.” Lena’s face fell and she leaned forward to take Amélie’s hands in her own.

“Listen, I get it,” she said softly. “But what he's doing is really important. Talon is..." Lena paused. She - the entire team - had been given strict instructions to keep discussions of official business to a minimum while Amélie was on base. At the time, she hadn't thought to clarify what 'a minimum' really entailed; And, in this moment, she wondered if she was passing the threshold. Amélie's face, darkened and furrowed with worry, made her forget for a moment that the threshold even existed. "Gérard might be about to save the whole world."

Amélie scoffed. "And I should be grateful that he's going to die for that?" she said, spitting the words like they were poison in her mouth. Her hands twisted and, at first, Lena thought she was trying to relieve them from Lena's grasp. But then Lena felt fingers slip between hers and settle comfortably in the spaces between, and she let hers do the same.

"Hey, none of that talk," Lena said, daring to chide Amélie, softly, for her unending pessimism. "He's got people watching his back. And believe me, if there’s anyone that can bring him home safe, it’s Commander Reyes. He'll make sure that Gérard comes home. Even if he doesn't." That thought made Lena shudder. She hadn’t spent much time with Commander Reyes, but the stories the others told about him made her feel as close to him as anyone else. A master tactician and an expert marksman, Reyes was adored by his team, even with his hair-trigger temper and brooding attitude. She truly did believe that Reyes would risk his life for his team.

“It does not ease my mind to know that someone might die either way,” Amélie said. There was a pause, and Lena felt Amélie’s grip on her hands tighten. Through the silence that followed, Lena heard Amélie’s breath hitch and her shoulders begin to shake.

“It’s okay,” Lena said again. “You’re allowed to be scared.” She chuckled a little, attempting to regain some levity. “Lord knows I’ve cried enough in front of you by now for you to stop feeling bashful.” Amélie did not respond. After a few moments, her breathing evened and she stopped shaking. Without a word, Amélie pulled her hands from Lena’s to wipe at her face, then left the bed and entered the bathroom.

As the door closed, Lena sat back against the wall and sighed into her hands. She wondered if Amélie was like this with Gérard, too. Or was it something about Lena? Or, she reasoned with herself, it could just be that they were not close enough yet - just because Lena had no problem bursting into tears the second time she met someone didn’t mean that other people had to be the same way.

Amélie emerged from the bathroom with no trace of tears, save slightly bloodshot eyes. “It’s late,” she said to Lena as she turned out the light behind her, “I should head back.”

Lena shifted onto her feet from the bed, then stood, awkwardly, where she’d landed. They had never done this before: the proper ‘Good bye.’ It was always something quick, unexpected, and Lena had never had to do much. Amélie always left first, without warning. Now, Lena had to make a choice.

Instead, she stood still, her legs pressed back against the side of the bed. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Thank you for having me on such short notice,” Amélie replied. She stepped forward, gradually closing the distance between them. It was like a dance - a dance that Lena had no idea how to do. She had absolutely no clue what to do with her hands. Or her face. Or, well, anything. So, she didn’t do anything at all - just stood and watched as Amélie made every move for them.

"The pleasure was all mine," Lena said, as Amélie drew closer.

“Perhaps, one day,” Amélie continued, “I will host you in my _boudoir_?” The way she said ‘boudoir’ was, Lena decided, absolutely scandalous and completely ridiculous. Amélie seemed to know it, too - she exaggerated her accent over the syllables, and actually wiggled her eyebrows a little as she said it. Delighted by the playfulness, and glad to see Amélie's spirits perking back up, Lena responded with her own devilish grin.

“You’re cheeky when you want to be, you know,” she said.

Amélie definitely knew. She lifted her head and stared down at Lena from half-lidded eyes. Then, she brought her hand up, placed her finger gingerly under Lena’s chin, and gently pushed it so that it mirrored her own.

Lena was certain she had burst into flames. It was shameful, completely debauched, cliché and absurd, but Amélie could have told Lena that she hated her guts and wished she were dead in that moment and Lena would still have thought of it later as she fantasized again before falling asleep.

“See you tomorrow, then,” Lena said, voice tight and body rigid.

Amélie hummed and leaned forward, tilting her head to the side. Lena held her breath. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. Her eyes flickered to each feature of Amélie's face as it drew closer to hers.

Then, Amélie pulled away. “Sleep well, Lena,” she called over her shoulder, and then she was gone, the door thumping softly as it closed behind her.

Six and a half hours later, Lena woke from a dream where she plummeted from the sky toward the ground below. In the dream, Amélie had kissed her, hard and deep and long, then pushed her off of the roof and laughed.

Even while she fell, Lena couldn’t stop herself from laughing, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> raise your hand if yr name is amélie and you use seduction as a defense mechanism
> 
> next time on "emotionally unstable babes dealing really really badly with Feelings":  
> more flirting  
> more crying  
> more sexy language barriers  
> maybe smooching????  
> you'll have to stick around to find out  
> :o


End file.
